Leave A Message
by theIndespensiblestoryteller
Summary: A series of unconnected one-shots focusing on the relationships and themes of the VM universe. Keith, a twelve year old Logan and a battered Porsche, Veronica and Lianne at midnight, Lilly's love of fabulous footwear, Weevil steals a bicycle, Logan and Duncan become BFFs and more to come, hopefully.
1. Cocaine Blues

**A.N - Hello, this is my first foray into the wonderful world of Veronica Mars fan fiction. I just had to get down this stories that seemed to form themselves in my brain. They don't really relate apart from being part of the VM universe, filtered through my odd mind. I decided to use quotes to bookend them because I found so many that could be applied to so many of the characters and situations, besides we all know how important inspirational quotes are. Though I doubt these will be very inspirational, especially not this one in particular.**

**Disclaimer: I have no claim over Veronica Mars or any of its related intellectual properties, that's Rob Thomas baby. I also have no claim to the wonderful words of the various authors whose quotes I shamelessly use to make myself seem smarter (I'm not).**

**Disclaimer again: Be warned this is a story with harsh language and features depictions of abuse both emotional and physical. You should probably go play with a puppy instead.**

* * *

**Cocaine Blues**

"_**There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds."**_

_** -Laurell K. Hamilton, Mistral's Kiss**_

Keith Mars, Balboa County Sheriff, had tracked down many men in his time as an officer of the law, his record while not perfect was as good as they get. To be pithy about it, he always got his man.

So why, oh, why was he still up driving the deserted streets of Neptune at quarter to three on a Sunday night, looking for one kid.

Sure kids were small and fast but honestly how many places where there in Neptune a twelve-year-old kid could be at quarter to three?

He'd already checked the all night convenience stores and dinners, the parks and beaches, even the school, that one may have been out of desperation.

Yep, there it was bubbling up inside his chest, desperation. There were in fact many places a lost child could be and few of them where pleasant.

God, if anything happened to that kid, the half formed thought rose unbidden to the surface. Panic would not be useful at the minute he told himself, he was trained to handle this kind of situation, to stay calm and .. Not... Panic.

Still the image of two little blondes dressed in black and crying almost broke his heart.

He gulped down the last of the Sac N' Pac coffee and began to make the rounds of the outer limits of the town again.

Maybe this time.

* * *

_ The contented peace of the Mars family home was broken by the phones shrill demand for attention. Keith had rolled over and tried to block out the irritating reminder of the outside world. If it was anything important then the sheriff's department would page him, not ring the house number. Still after the phone had cut out and rang again, he knew that he wouldn't be getting anymore sleep that night. _

_He glanced at the alarm clock on the night stand and blearily registered the time as 1:23 A.M. His wife's even breathes told him that the cacophony emanating from the hall had not awoken her. Groaning as he pulled himself out of the warmth of his bed he fished around for a pair of pants and groggily made his way into the hall while simultaneously dressing. _

"_Sheriff Mars"_

"_O God Keith, I can't find him, I don't know where he is, please, please!"_

"_Lynn, calm down, take a deep breath, what happened?"_

_He could hear the slur in her voice, practically smell the alcohol drifting over the phone lines. Still the fear in her tone was real enough to keep him on the line._

"_I'm sure Aaron is fine probably just couldn't get a car back from LA this late, I think he told me he would be out there at meetings or something." _

"_No, not Aaron, O Keith my baby boy..." _

_Damn, Keith closed his eyes, I was really hoping this was about Aaron. Philandering husbands where a lot easier to deal with than missing kids._

"_I'll be over in a minute" he hung up the phone, glancing at the door covered with a pink name plate that proudly proclaimed 'Veronica' next to a prancing unicorn. _

"_Go back to bed honey, every things fine" he told the pair of eyes peeking out from the crack in the door. She opened the door just enough so he could see her face, puffy with sleep. _

"_Just have to run down to the office for a minute, crime never sleeps so neither does the sheriff, apparently". _

_She nodded, stifling a yawn "Night daddy, be safe"._

* * *

A solid hour of driving and the sky showed no signs of brightening, the rare California rain was pelting the slick, dark surface of the Pacific Coast Highway as it stretched out away from the sleepy seaside town. He squinted through the haze at the halogen lights of a particularly obnoxious billboard for a new action movie, something about death or heat or rage, the usual, it was the name on the marque that had caught his eye, Echolls. He felt his gut clench and wiped a hand across his weary face.

He had to turn back, head home to his own kid, maybe he had already made his way home, or would in the next few hours.

He was an unpredictable one.

"Cheap justification Keith" he chided himself, "but you can't help the kid by falling asleep and crashing into the pacific, now can you?".

He pulled over into the bus stop area to turn the car around when a bundle of clothes caught his notice, shivering under the narrow bus bench.

"Please god", he breathed practically jumping from the car. A cold breeze was blowing the rain sideways into his eyes and tugged at the edges of the coat draped over the body on the bench. Keith blinked trying to focus his vision, the bundle was moving he was sure, it wasn't just the perpetual motion of the wind and rain tricking his eyes, he was sure.

Still he steeled himself, and reached out his hand. The kid shot up like a startled bird, he flitted from Keith's grasp to the other side of the bench. Adopting a poise halfway between flight and fight, he watched with wary eyes, that seemed to be absorbing the situation and calculating his options.

"Logan" Keith said in a placating tone "It's okay, it's me Sheriff Mars, Veronica's dad" he added, the kid was skittish as a pure breed, but he relaxed a little at the mention of Keith's daughter.

"You're not in trouble, Logan, but there are a lot of people worried about you," did the kid just snort, probably the cold, he continued " and I think its time you came home".

The silence filled up the space between them for a moment before, slumping his shoulders , Logan began walking towards the patrol car. Without a word he made to sit in the back, but Keith placed a hand on his shoulder and steered him around to the passenger door "Heating" he indicated to the vents in the dash.

And judging by how much the kids shoulders shook under his hands, he'd need it.

* * *

_ The white Porsche zoomed around the curve of the road, narrowly avoiding crashing into the metal barrier erected along the cliff side, but not narrowly enough that the paint job wouldn't need a touch up. _

_Logan's knuckles were white from gripping the leather seats as he tried to prevent himself from sliding into the door or the dash, the seat belt, too big for his slight frame, only managed to choke him. He eyed the needle in the speedometer nervously watching its jerky movements as it rose higher up into the red. Swallowing he moved his eyes to his fathers face, a look halfway between extreme concentration and maniac glee was plastered across the ageing actors features. _

_"Dad" Logan said, but was drowned out by the growl of the engine, eager to prove its reputation as a speedster. "DAD" Logan yelled, it was beginning to rain , the headlights showed the silver threads hanging in the air but the rest of the world was shrouded in the deepest of blacks. Glimpses of the metal barrier were the only indication they were still on the road and hadn't already been swallowed up into oblivion. "Dad, slow down, you're going too fast!"_

_Aaron turned his head, narrowing his eyes at his son, pale and shivering next to him, looking truly pathetic. While his attention was focused on his son, he hadn't noticed the car drift out into the next lane, the one for oncoming traffic. The blinding glare of the semi trucks headlights flashed just in time for Aaron to turn the wheel hard, swerving out of the way as the great metal beast hurtled by at 100 M.P.H., leaving the air echoing with the frantic blearing of its horn and the screech of rubber on asphalt. Logan forced air into his lungs, his ears ringing and tears stinging his eyes, Aaron let out a whoop of excitement, drumming his hands on the steering wheel with nervous energy. _

_"How's that kiddo just like one of my movies, your old man's a real action star" he laughed, pushing down on the gas pedal causing the engine to rev. The car began its jerky movements back along the highway drifting in and out of lanes and brushing the steel barrier every so often. Tears now streaming down his face, Logan's heart was keeping pace with the hurtling machine and he was sure it would give out before the car did. _

_"Stop, stop, stop, stop, JUST FUCKING STOP" his whisper turned into a scream, the gasoline and cold night air searing through his lungs. _

_Aaron now thoroughly pissed at his sons wimpy behaviour, hit the brake peddle furiously,letting the car screech to a sudden halt. Logan's head whipped forward, his mouth making contact with the dash, teeth scrapping wood veneer. Aaron looked at him in disgust, leaning over to rub his fingers along the dash, more concerned with the possibility of a chip in the panelling than a chip in his sons tooth. _

_Logan swung the car door open, half falling out onto the gritty surface of the highway. He emptied the contents of his stomach onto the road, the bile mixing with the blood from his busted lip before being washed away by the rain. _

"_Get back in the car" Aaron yanked him up, unconsciously using more force than necessary in his frenzied state. Logan just shook his head trying to pull out of his fathers jittery hands. His attempts to extricate himself caused Aaron to stumble back, knocking his elbow against the open door. _

_"Fuck, fine you don't want to get back in the car, you can stay here, or try to walk home" he sneered slamming the passenger door. _

_Logan looked at his father in shock, as he lowered himself into the drivers seat again, revving the engine. Logan scrambled for the door but the car took of at speed, causing him to jump back to avoid losing a foot. _

_He stared as the rear lights were blurred by the rain and then disappeared into the night._

* * *

They travelled for about fifteen minutes accompanied only by the rhythmic swishing of the windscreen wipers beating back the rain, Keith occasionally glancing over at the sopping wet boy.

He was constantly fidgeting, leg rattling against the door, hands pulling at the sleeves of the over-sized deputies jacket Keith had given him to replace his drenched coat. He would pull the fabric down over his knuckles and then brush it against the small cut on his lower lip, wincing and dropping his hands to pick at the seat cushion, before repeating the process again after a few minutes.

It was starting to fray on his last nerve.

"You shouldn't keep rubbing at it, it will just make it hurt more" The kid looked startled, his jiggling leg, stilled, tense, his hands covering the injury in question.

"It doesn't hurt" he muttered sullenly between his fingers.

Keith rolled his eyes "What happened?" he asked, matter of factly, sympathy would get him nowhere with this kid.

"Fell" Logan shrugged his shoulders carelessly.

"Wow, that's some trick, fell in Neptune and landed an hour outside the town on a bus bench"

The kid dropped his hands, turning his head to look at Keith, he seemed to be sizing him up, judging him. A con-man considering a mark, Keith shook the thought, he was just a kid, a small rain soaked, shivering kid.

He'd have to turn his badge in tomorrow if he was getting spooked by a kid eye-balling him.

"Ta-da" the kid suddenly said, waving his hands like a cheap conjurer.

Keith couldn't help the laugh that escaped him at the child's sudden change in demeanour. Sullen to perky in three seconds flat, I think he just beat Veronica's best time, he thought to himself wryly.

There was a smile on his face now, it stretched the cut across his lips causing a trickle of blood to run down his chin. Keith couldn't decide whether the sight was comical or just sad.

"So Houdini, this great escape of yours, how exactly was it supposed to go?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets" the boy giggled, reminding Keith once again just how young he actually was "but it may have involved, wait for it..."

He paused dramatically, drawing a deep breath.

"A bus!" he finished triumphantly.

Again Keith had to chuckle at the kids brashness "Well sorry to inform you but they don't tend to run at this hour of the night".

"Morning" Logan corrected him "it's the morning now, nights over, besides who said I was trying to escape?"

* * *

_ The Porsche pulled up to the house, knocking over one of the terracotta pots standing next to the steps leading up to the front door. _

_Aaron threw open the door, banging it against the iron railing that ran down the side of the steps, denting the already battered car one last time for good measure. _

_Curly would have his work cut out for him in the morning. Maybe he would get Moran to completely redo the paint job, get a new colour, blue maybe or red? He staggered up the steps, humming a nonsense tune as he tried to turn the keys in the lock. _

_The door swung open by itself, Aaron wondered when they had that feature installed and how much it had cost? Maybe they could fire the butler? Did they have a butler? He was trying to remember when his eyes focused on his wife's hands grasping the door handle like a life preserver. _

"_You don't have to do that, it opens all by itself" he chuckled, but she had already swept past him to the diagonally parked (abandoned) car. She threw open the passengers seat looking inside before turning around, eyes pleading. _

"_Aaron" she croaked out "Where is Logan? You brought him to that meeting, you said you'd be back by ten!" her voice grew more high pitched with each word. _

"_Ah well Berkowitz invited us to a little gathering after the negotiations where done, you know celebrate my newest feature, its a great role, I play a former C.I.A. agent turned gun for hire who has to protect this diplomats kid, some new kid actor, Connor something, he's really being hyped at the minute next big thing" Aaron chuckled, again. Lynn watched him, eyes glassy, patiently waiting for him to explain where her son was, she tried not to concentrate on the damaged car or the glazed look in his eyes. _

"_Logan?" she pleaded, hands clasping together in supplication. Aaron clicked his tongue in frustration at his wife's interruption "The little brat wouldn't come with me" _

"_You left him in LA?" she gasped out, beginning to sway on her feet. _

"_What do you think I'm stupid or something" he yelled at her, stalking down the steps towards her, eyes narrowed " We were almost home and the brat pretends to be sick and then runs out of the car and wouldn't get back in, what was I supposed to do?"he pointed a finger accusingly in her face. "if you didn't coddle him so much, he wouldn't be such a fucking spoiled brat." _

"_You left him?" she repeated, half whispered._

"_Don't you dare make this my fault" he screamed in her face " unlike you I will not give in to every little tantrum he throws, the boy needs some discipline, he needs to learn a lesson about respect"_

_With that, he walked around and got back into the car pulling away, grounding the remnants of terracotta and azaleas under the spinning wheels._

* * *

He had just started to get feeling back into his toes when Sheriff Mars had decided to strike up a conversation. It had been funny to watch the man's face try to hide his amusement as Logan put on his best clown act. It was much better than the worried glances he had been shooting him earlier.

Still Logan knew that all the banter was just leading up to the real interrogation.

He genuinely liked Keith Mars, he was reasonable despite being an authority figure, he could be funny, and he was Veronica's dad, which got him points the same way Jake got points merely for being Duncan and Lilly's dad.

Keith Mars was probably the best dad in Neptune, make that the world, or at least Logan gathered from the stories Veronica told. To her he was Superman, upholder of Truth, Justice and the Mars family way, which somehow included ice-cream for dinner on special occasions.

All these facts lead Logan to one conclusion, Sheriff Mars wasn't going to let this go easily, and Logan had better come up with a damn good lie to convince him to leave it alone. It made him feel a little bit like the bad guy, lying to someone so good , but the truth wasn't an option.

Besides it had been his fault he wouldn't get back into the car, it was embarrassing, he didn't want Sheriff Mars to think he was that stupid or wimpy.

"So am I gonna get an excuse for why I'm up this early on a Monday morning, driving down the PCH?"

"Commitment to excellence? A burning desire to serve and protect? Overtime?"

Keith didn't smile "Logan?" he said sternly.

Logan sighed, rubbing the cut on his lip, wiping the trickle of blood from his chin as he did. "Would you believe I got lost?" he ventured. Keith snorted "What were you doing, chasing a balloon?"

"A white van with free candy written on the side actually" Logan's smirk faded as Keith's frown deepened.

"Your mother was very worried about you" he said gently, looking out onto the road ahead, attempting to squint through the rain. Logan felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach, he tried to blink back the hot tears that stung the corners of his eyes.

"My mom called you?" he tried to hide the quiver in his voice.

Keith nodded.

"Not my dad?"

"No, he was away, I'm sure he'll just be happy you're home safe"

"My dad didn't call you?" Keith slowed the car, the kid sounded on the verge of a breakdown.

Logan didn't like looking weak in front of anyone but the tears were falling fast and hard and he couldn't quit catch his breath, he felt like he was drowning. Aaron hadn't called Sheriff Mars to come pick him up, he had just left him there, just left him...

Keith stopped the car, watching as the boys slight frame shook with the huge racking sobs that erupted from his throat. He gently rubbed his back, calmly telling him to breathe.

"Come on now kid, deep breaths, that's it, in and out, good boy, in and out, in and out, come on Logan you have to breathe!"

Slowly the sobs subsided and he watched as the boys ragged breaths began to become even.

"It'll be okay, it's not the end of the world, kiddo, I can't promise you won't be in trouble, but it won't be that bad okay?"

He was still rubbing his back, voice low and soothing, Logan nodded, eyelids drooping.

"Okay" he mumbled, leaning his head against the glass, letting his eyelids close "Okay".

Keith waited till he was sure Logan was soundly sleeping before starting the engine.

* * *

_ Logan stood entranced as the rear lights stained the misty air red till they disappeared into the dark. _

_Blinking the neon after image from his eyes he considered screaming, crying, begging. Falling to the slick dark highway and beating on it like a war drum, anything to cut through the maddening tapping of raindrops on road. _

_Still the heavens poured their vitriol down on his head and no amount of pleading or fighting would change the fact that he was here now, alone. _

_Shaking off the stupor, he did the only thing he could. _

_He began to walk. _

_Crossing into the hard shoulder, he pulled the orange fabric of his wind breaker tight around his trembling frame and wondered on into the Stygian night. The cruel hands of the wind pulled at the cloth, trying to snatch his last merge form of refuge, they tickled the back of his neck as the drops of rain fell hard against his cheeks, every drop a stinging slap. _

_He was thankful for the hard black asphalt beneath his feet, the yellow painted stripe , leisurely leading him towards the ambient glow of the sleepy town perched on the edge of the sea. _

_At least he had a direction to walk, he was alone but he knew the way home. _

_"Just follow the yellow brick road ", he said aloud to the no one, "but what to ask the wizard for?" and was answered only by the empty night ahead. _

_After an indeterminable stretch of time, eyes following the faint colour in the surrounding black, his shoes seemed to fill with lead as his legs turned to wood. Stumbling he raised his eyes to the glare of a halogen lamp trained on a overly large billboard set above a wooden bus bench. _

_A bleached blonde, airbrushed, sprawled across the fibreglass hood of a Ferrari, starred out at him with hollow eyes and a plastic smile. CG flames spewed from the still tyres of the red sports-car leading away in fiery tracks to equally fiery letters that read 'Death-fist III: Fist of Retaliation'. _

_Underneath the trite title, in bold black letters the name Aaron Echolls stood out like a bad punchline. _

_He laughed, cruel ,harsh , loud barks that shook his sopping frame till he fell to his knees exhausted and empty. _

_Crawling beneath the twisted planks of the bus bench, Logan curled up and let his heavy eyes close, slipping into sleep beneath his fathers name, up in lights._

* * *

The glare of the lamps lining the street as the patrol car crossed into Neptune roused Logan from his sleep.

Groggily he stared out the window at the near empty town itself just beginning to brush off the nights sleep and rain.

The side walks were still slick with the nights downpour and reflected the colours of the lights above them, orange street lamps, green, yellow and red traffic lights, blue and purple from a nearby liquor store sign.

The street looked like a neon rainbow and the thought made the sleepy child happy for some reason.

He smiled, a rare moment where he felt in accord with the world.

The truce was broken when the cut on his lip cracked painfully leaking blood onto the window, obscuring the outside world.

"We'll have you home in a couple minutes" Keith said pleasantly trying to stifle a yawn.

Logan suddenly felt terrible for keeping the Sheriff up all night, looking for him. He really wasn't worth it. Besides Aaron would have come back, eventually. He was sure, his dad would have come back.

His chest tightened and he realised that home was the last place he wanted to go. Maybe Sheriff Mars would let him sleep on his couch or on one of the benches at the station, or just drop him off at the top of his street and he could sneak into the house through the back hedge. But if he asked him to do any of that he was sure that the Sheriff would ask him why he didn't want to go home.

That wasn't a question he was willing to answer, not yet.

* * *

_ Lynn paced the front hall, glancing at the door every couple of seconds. _

_She didn't know what she expected, Aaron to saunter in with Logan by his side, Logan on his own, wet and cold, the sheriff, hat in hand, eyes full of sympathy._

_ "Mrs. Echolls, we're so sorry, we found him by the road". _

_She couldn't handle it, it was just too much. She poured herself a drink, with a kick, and settled down by the phone. _

_Aaron would call, he had to, he'd call, say it was all a mix-up, a mistake, a joke. He was out there right now bringing her baby home, he had to be. He just wouldn't do that to her, to their child. _

_She closed her eyes, taking a sip of the sour liquid, a picture of Logan smiling, waving at her, developed behind her eyes. _

_He was by the pool, giggling as he chased little Duncan Kane with a water pistol, he turned to her for a moment to wave, the cast on his arm catching the sunlight._

_ She choked on the sip, coughing, maybe just to be safe she should call Keith, he was the sheriff, he could find Logan. Besides his daughter, Veronica, was one of Logan's friends, it would be a favour, it didn't have to go through official channels. _

_She took one last gulp, draining her glass and dialled the number for the Mars residents._

* * *

Keith pulled the cruiser up in front of the large, impeccably appointed house, killing the engine.

Light streamed into the car from the wall lamps mounted on either side of the double width entrance doors, as the early morning sun struggled to burn through the grey clouds. The light fell across the face of the small boy sitting across from him, harshly illuminating the purple and yellow that had begun to spread out from his lip to his cheek.

The bruise looked ugly under the stark lighting and Keith had a sudden urge to keep the child buckled safely in his passenger seat where he couldn't hurt himself or worse, be hurt.

"So how about the truth, what happened?" he spoke in a placid tone free of judgement, allowing only a hint of his concern to leak through. Logan turned his head to face the sheriff, eyes resolutely downcast.

He played with the hem of the dark coloured jacket, overly large but warm and comfortable, in the back of his mind he wished he could curl up into it and just sleep. He knew it wasn't his, he knew he would have to give it back, the warmth and comfort where only temporary. He sighed and raised his eyes, locking them with those of the adult beside him.

"I ..." he began in a barely audible voice "My..Dad!" his eyes drifted to the driveway where the rumble of an engine announced the arrival of a white Porsche, severely dented.

Keith couldn't tell who had had the worst night the kid or the car.

At least two different colour paints had been left along the sides of the car in the deep scratches and hollows of what could only be the results of impacts. Keith frowned as the sports car swerved up the drive stopping abruptly across from his own more modest vehicle.

Aaron Echolls climbed out and made his way over to the cruiser, wrapping his knuckles on the drivers window, his ostentatious gold ring making a loud clinking sound against the glass.

Barely disguised irritation evident on his face Keith rolled the window down as the door to the house flew open and Lynn Echolls practically vaulted down the stairs, throwing the passenger door open. Aaron leaned with calculated casualness against the window smiling down at the local sheriff as Lynn gingerly knelt next to her son, taking his hands in hers and wincing at the cut lip and forming bruise on his face.

"Howdy Sheriff!" Aaron smiled, all teeth and charm "What brings you to our neck of the woods?"

" Just delivering some wayward offspring back home" he replied, mild tone at odds with the hard look forming in his eyes.

Aaron noticed and shifted his own features accordingly, eyes only momentarily settling on his wife as she was cooing affectionately at her son, hands still firmly clasped around his smaller ones.

"In all sincerity, Keith, I can't thank you enough for what you have done for my family, I just wish I had been here to avoid causing you so much trouble"

"All in a days or should I say nights work, it's my job to deal with any trouble in this town"

"And we're all so lucky to have a sheriff so good at his job" Aaron nodded sagely.

Lynn had finally pulled Logan from the passengers seat, despite his reluctance and arms wrapped around his shoulders, tears in her eyes, she turned to Keith.

"Thank you, just thank you so much" she choked out.

Keith let himself smile, and nodded his head in acknowledgement "Any time, but lets not make it a habit"

"Well you have to at least come in for a coffee or something, we can't go without rewarding the hero of the night" Aaron put in, raising himself up from the window.

"No, no I have to get back to my own kid but I will settle for an explanation" he said pointedly looking between Aaron and Lynn.

Logan shuffled his feet, Lynn glanced nervously at her husband and Aaron let out a slight chuckle.

"Well, while the cats away" he smirked indicating the battered Porsche "my rapscallion of a son got it into his head to have a little fun with daddy's newest toy, he panicked when he crashed it and must have took off, afraid of his punishment" as he spoke Aaron had circled the car to where his wife and son stood.

He had placed his hand on his sons shoulder, squeezing it.

"But honestly I'm just glad you brought him home safely" he looked down at Logan " and I think someone has learned a valuable lesson"

Logan nodded eyes still firmly on the ground.

"Now apologise to the man for wasting his time and we'll discuss your punishment later" he smiled pleasantly patting the small shoulder under his hand.

"I'm sorry Sheriff Mars, I won't let it happen again" he mumbled in Keith's direction.

"Don't worry about it, but let's keep our emulating of James Dean to leather jackets and lay off the sports cars for a couple more years, okay kid?"

Logan nodded a smile creeping onto his face, he raised his eyes to meet Keith's and in a genuine voice simply said "Thank you".

Keith backed the car out, turning around in the spacious drive, eager to head home.

Of all the places, I had to be Sheriff of the town where kids runaway after wreaking daddy's Porsche, he shook his head.

More money than sense, he thought in exasperation.

Glancing in the rear view as he began to pull away, he saw that Aaron had now wrapped his arm around his sons shoulders, and tightly gripping his arm Logan leaned into his fathers embrace, head ducked, tears rolling down his cheeks. Keith thought he could just make out the words.

"I'm sorry, so sorry".

* * *

_ Keith gently placed a hand on his daughters shoulder and gave it a light shake._

_ "Sweetheart we're home" he whispered. _

_The little bundle of blonde just curled up even closer into the deputies jacket draped over her pink summer dress. _

_Sighing Keith got out of the car and made his way to the passengers side, opening the door carefully so she wouldn't fall out. He hoisted her up into his arms and managed to open the door and traverse the stairs, depositing her on her bed with only a little back strain. _

_"No more all weekend sleep-overs at the Kane's anymore if you can't even make it the drive home before conking out" he said in mock sternness , answered only by the nonsense mumbling of the deeply asleep. _

_He began to take off her shoes, smiling when he saw 'LILLY KANE IS FABULOUS' scrawled across the back of her left shoe in flowery script surrounded by hearts and laughing when he read the matching 'VERONICA MARS IS MARVELLOUS' on her right shoe. _

_Carefully lifting up the yellow daisy covered duvet he tucked her safely into her bed, lightly kissing her forehead. _

_"Sweet dreams, Veronica honey" he said before switching off the lights and making his way to his own bed._

* * *

The room was dark and quiet, he lay on his stomach burying his head into the warmth of the pillows.

Her light footsteps did not make him raise his head, he knew her hesitant steps, always slightly off kilter,drunk or just punch drunk.

She sat beside him on the bed running her manicured nails through his hair and gently scratching his head, resolutely ignoring the rest of his body, a sight unseen.

He only raised his head when he heard the clink of a glass on the night stand, she fumbled in her pocket to produce a prescription bottle, child capped. She struggled to open it before with an amused sigh he propped himself gently up onto his knees , took the bottle and opened it in one deft movement.

Lynn smiled and stroked his unbruised cheek, "What would I do without you?" she chuckled, it didn't quite reach her eyes, the words had too much weight.

They both ignored it.

She counted out two pills, he took them without comment, reaching for the glass he noticed the deep amber colour of the liquid contained within. He raised an eyebrow.

"To help you sleep" she shrugged.

What works for the mother, he thought and swallowed a mouthful, coughing at the burning sensation in his throat, he motioned to put it down.

"Drink it all".

He brought it to his lips, hesitating till Lynn's fingers caught the bottom of the tumbler and tipped it forward, letting the warm liquid flow down his throat.

Another cough and the sound of glass meeting wood.

He lay down, on his stomach, again, she resumed her ministrations to his scalp. The warmth had reached his stomach and spread a fuzzy haze, his eyes closed allowing them to drown out the constant twinges and aches that shot up his back, if only a little.

His mind wandered back to the feeling of the car heater blowing hot air in his face and the warmth in the voice of the man sitting next to him.

That was something he wasn't used to, kindness from men, like a nervous dog he never really liked men, he was much more comfortable with women.

The feeling in his throat was like it had been scorched, not by hot whiskey, but by unspoken words.

What if he had actually said it, told someone?

Lynn was humming, he concentrated on the sound, he recognised the tune, he could hear snippets of the words in his head. He mused as sleep began to creep over him, what was the song called?

_When I find myself in times of trouble_

Would he have helped? Would he have blamed him? Called him weak? Told him he deserved it?

_Mother Mary comes to me_

Taken him away from his mom? From Duncan and Lilly and Veronica?

_speaking words of wisdom_

Put him in a home somewhere with all the other lost boys? Would they hate him, laugh at him, pity him?

_let it be_

No, he decided, telling would be bad, he should never tell.

Besides things weren't so bad like this.

That's it_, _

_Let it be._

_"**There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."  
- Maya Angelou**_

* * *

_**A.N:** _**Yes I know that Connor knew the Echolls way before Logan was twelve, I seem to recall something about a purse, just chalk it up to Aaron being out of it, and an asshole. Yeah mostly the last thing. **

**Coming Soon: Death-fist III- Fist of Retaliation. He's back and this time the gloves are off. Feel the fist, the fist of retaliation. **  
**Don't forget to check out the original Death-fist and Death-fist II: Fist of Rage. **

**Starring Aaron Echolls as Daniel Boxer. **

**In association with Triten' Ché zey pictures.**


	2. Midnight

**Midnight**

"_**A woman is like a tea bag; you never know how strong it is until it's in hot water."  
- Eleanor Roosevelt**_

The first time Lianne woke her up at midnight, it had been fun and exciting.

Her mother had bounced on her bed like she was the child, clapping her hands in excitement. Some old movie Lianne loved was playing on the T.V. in the sitting room and two cups of hot chocolate and two bowls of ice-cream sat on the coffee table.

She dragged Veronica in her pale pink pyjamas to the couch where she pulled an old Afghan over both there knees. Together they giggled at the cheesy romantic lines, laughed at the villain's bad haircut and pencil moustache and swooned at the gorgeous furs and dresses worn by the heroine. When all the ice-cream and hot chocolate had been consumed and the credits began to roll Veronica could already feel her eyelids turning to lead.

"Come on now, off to bed, we'll tidy up in the morning" her mother chirped as she wrapped an arm around her sleepy child's waist.

Veronica allowed her body to sink into her mothers as she was lead back into her room. Gracelessly she collapsed onto her bed and was out before Lianne killed the lights. Bending over her only daughter she stroked her golden tresses, a reflection of her own fair hair, before placing a kiss on her forehead.

* * *

The second time Lianne woke her at midnight, it had been unintentional.

She had stumbled over a small end table in the hall sending a particularly ugly vase crashing to the ground. The sound of the impact and the giggles Lianne was unsuccessfully trying to stifle were enough to stir Veronica from her sleep.

Bare footed she shambled to her bedroom door to watch the teetering progress of her mother. Stilted steps played out an uneven rhythm as shaking fingers traced a line across the wallpaper, tethering her to the home she could no longer navigate.

Her bedroom door opened before she reached it, meet by a silent scowl and then the resigned sigh of her better half. Veronica watched the door swing shut before closing her own.

* * *

The third time Lianne woke her at midnight, it had been heartbreaking.

She was still wearing her damp coat, her hair wet with the nights rain. Her make up running, dirty grey tears staining her flushed cheeks.

She sat on the edge of the bed swaying slightly to some unheard melody. A song of faithless, whiskey drowned failures on the tip of her tongue.

She sank into the warmth of her daughter, wasting words on aborted explanations and artificial apologies. Veronica had rested her hand tentatively on her mothers trembling shoulders while desperately holding back her own quivering emotions. Like butterfly's in a jar of cloudy glass, sheltering her mother from the storms she was too young to comprehend in her yellow daisy covered comforter.

The smell of alcohol, cologne and quite misery smothered the mother and child, unsaid words and desperate sobs humming a lullaby till oblivious sleep took the older and fitful unrest became the youngers burden.

* * *

The last time Lianne didn't wake her. She gingerly placed the music box on her night stand almost panicking when the slight impact jogged the mechanism leaving a single note hanging in the air.

The orphaned sound didn't wake her, nor did the gentle kiss or the mumbled goodbye. Veronica dreamed while Lianne left.

"_**It is so hard to leave—until you leave. And then it is the easiest goddamned thing in the world."  
- John Green, Paper Towns**_


	3. Ruby Slippers

**Ruby Slippers**

"**_Give a girl the right shoes, and she can conquer the world."_  
–-_Bette Midler_**

Celeste had bought them on a trip to Rodeo Drive after refusing to buy Lilly a mint chocolate and vanilla gelato.

They had stood in the window of a high end boutique on a black velvet cushion, lit from beneath by soft golden light.

They had cost her 600 dollars, a lot more than a gelato.

Black satin heels that had ruby encrusted straps that criss-crossed around the ankles.

The first time she wore them was to a charity dinner for the underfunded education system. Celeste had paired the delicately beautiful heels with a severe black pant suit that while fashionable, exactly cut and of finest cashmere was, in Lilly's opinion, too boring for such vivacious footwear.

The hem of the pants almost hid the sparkling straps, for Christ sake, she had wanted to say.

"How many kids could be put through school with what those heels cost?" she had joked to the president of the district school board instead, she had looked thoroughly scandalised and Celeste had spent the rest of the night staring daggers at her.

It made the party infinitely more interesting.

After that night Celeste had carefully put the heels up onto one of the shelves in her walk in closet along with a dozen other ridiculously expensive and gorgeous shoes.

* * *

It took Lilly a month to decide to take them, she reasoned that such fabulous shoes deserved a fabulous owner who knew exactly how to wear them.

The first time she wore them, she paired them with a sexy black dress that swung just above her knees, with straps that criss-crossed at the back and accentuated her natural assets at the front.

The rubies sparkled playfully as she all but skipped down the board walk, gelato in one hand, handsome boyfriend in the other.

"Shoes off the bed" he laughed when she had plopped down onto the silky white sheets in his pool house.

She smiled mischievously and shook her head at him. "Shoes on!"

She raised her foot, pressing the heel to his shoulder, drawing him down between her thighs. She raised her other foot to his other shoulder so both heels dug into his soft flesh. He just smirked up at her, biting his lip "You know sometimes I love you, Lilly Kane".

She watched the dim light dance along the rubies, as the pleasure washed over her, till her head lolled back in ecstasy.

When he pulled her up onto his lap, she kissed the small red circles on his shoulders "You know, sometimes I love you, Logan Echolls".

* * *

It took Celeste three months to realise the heels where missing.

She marched into Lilly's room, while she and Veronica Mars where painting each others toe nails, fuschia for Veronica, crimson for Lilly.

"Where are my manolo blahnik heels, the black ones?" she seethed at her daughter.

It took Lilly a minute to realise which shoes she was talking about.

In Lilly's mind they were always the ruby ones because of the way ruby tinted light would dance off them.

She sighed and rolled off the bed with exaggerated slowness. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Veronica trying to stifle a nervous giggle while simultaneously looking anywhere but at Celeste Kane, who was staring at her like she was an oversized bug.

Lilly pulled the heels out from the back of her closet, holding them up by the straps with one finger, looking bored.

"These old things?" she purred in a saccharine voice.

"You had no right to take those young lady, you can't have everything you want, you know".

Lilly's expression of boredom was replaced by a genuine smile.

" Why can't I ? Just watch mommy dearest the world is going to fall at my impeccably shod feet some day"

* * *

They had dressed her in a conservative black dress, or as conservative as anything they could find in Lilly's closet.

It flowed down past her knees in waves of gossamer chiffon, she looked beautiful, her head turned to one side, hiding the line of stitches in a satin pillow.

Jake had been vehemently against an open coffin at the ceremony, more people gawking at his poor baby girl.

Celeste had convinced him it was better that everyone see her this way, clean, beautiful, and peaceful one last time.

Besides she knew Lilly would relish the chance for one last show. She would have never heard the end of it if Lilly had known that it was the last party centred around her, and she was hidden away inside a box.

That's why Celeste had meticulously picked her dress and shoes, and spent hours with the make-up artist and hair stylist so they got it just right.

If she was going to send her little girl off, she was going to do it in style.

Celeste watched as the coffin lid was closed for the last time, catching a glint of ruby light playing on the brass handles at the foot of the box just before it snapped shut.

"_**You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough."**_ _** –- Mae West**_


	4. Vanitas

**Vanitas**

"_**I'm the one that's got to die when it's time for me to die, so let me live my life the way I want to."**_ ** -_Jimi Hendrix, Jimi Hendrix – Axis: Bold as Love_**

Gustavio Toombs had lived next door to Eli for all of his eleven years of life and the nights scene was as familiar to him as any other.

Gus and his boys sat on the front steps of the run down house, taking pulls from cigarettes in-between their sips of beer.

The rhythmic sounds of cards being dealt and called was periodically interrupted by cat calls for particularly fine or provocatively dressed girls as they sauntered by, or by a barrage of insults directed at someone who had pissed off a member of the gang in recent weeks.

The brashness would occasionally be mediated by respectful mumbling for a particularly venerated Abuela or Abuelo as they ambled by the chain link fence.

Respect was an important commodity on these streets but it was only given to those who earned it, even if it took sixty years to do so.

The streets where unusually full due to the nature of the night. The smell of candle wax, Paper Mache and sweet wine filled the air as kids in home made masks skipped by and elderly couples dressed in their finery made their way back from Mass to dole out sugar cookies to expectant grandchildren.

Fairy lights had been strung across the street and bathed the crowds in twinkling light, animating the painted faces of the skeletal dolls who guarded the flower strewn altars either being transported to the graveyard or set up on a spot filled with bad memories.

Eli was trying to forget the bad memories by letting his eyes drift across the swirling brightly coloured mass of humanity that flitted past his door.

His mother, dressed in lace had gone with his Abuela and older sister to visit her father's grave, candles and cakes in hand.

Eli had declined the offer to join them, claiming a stomach ache. Worried his mother had left an imprint of deep red lipstick on his forehead, like an amulet to keep out the bad spirits. It had taken him longer than usual to wipe the mark from his brow, superstition ruled the night, and he had felt troubled removing the sign of his mothers devotion. The usual clatter and colour of the night so beloved was somehow more ominous and frightening to him this night. The graveyard had seemed the last place to be for a soul so unsteady.

Eli had felt it wrong to celebrate for a man he had never known, his family were still with him and calling to those gone seemed too much like tempting faith. If they knew how much they were missed would they come back, stay beyond a night, or just take their loves back with them into the dark. He hated the sight of his Abuela, so close to tears for a stranger, a stone in a field of stones.

No picture or story would make him less a stranger, but at least he was a presence in the house. A ghost sitting in a ratty old armchair by a broken wireless, black hair streaked with grey.

His own father Eli knew was not even a ghost, just an empty space, a void of knowledge, a vacuum of feeling.

He was nothing.

There was no stone for him, no shrine of brightly coloured flowers, no tuxedoed groom to match the bride of lace, bone dry smiles and hollow eyes, hands laced forever in a parody of faith.

* * *

So when Gus offered him a five dollar bill to run over to a friends to pick up some more beer for them, he had accepted.

Glad of the distraction from himself and a reason to break the detachment he had felt and dive into the sea of life that flowed through the streets.

Immersing himself in the heat of bodies moving together and noise of voices moving separately, he sunk into the crowd, going with the flow.

He emerged outside the neon window display of a convenience store. Avoiding the harsh lighting and tinkling bell of the glass door he turned down the dark alley winding its way behind the store.

He rapped his small knuckles against the grimy plastic back door, hyper-aware of the echoing knock in the dark dead end alley. After another sharper knock the plastic door, once white, was pushed out, replaced by a hard face.

"What?" snapped the weathered face of someone older than their age.

"Gus sent me to pick up some beers" Eli squared his jaw trying to look taller than he was.

The man ran a burn scarred hand through his dark hair, loosing a few stringy strands from the elastic holding back his long ponytail.

"Fucking Reaper, always sending kids, swear he had better things to do" he growled disappearing back into the squat building. He emerged with a crate and set it down in front of Eli, he looked sceptically at the boys arms.

"You gonna be able to carry that?" he nodded at the crate, lighting a cigarette. Eli eyed the tattooed skull grinning at him from the man's wrist.

"Yeah" he shrugged.

"Sure kid, whatever, just tell Reaper that he wants anymore he's gotta pay, the rates are rising, new competition for Gus means a better deal for ole Johnny" he exhaled a cloud that turned orange under the light above the doorway before drifting off into the night air.

With a practiced flick he sent the still glowing butt twirling to the shadow strewn ground before leaving Eli alone in the alley staring as the orange light faded with the closing door.

Grasping the crate he lifted, staggering under the weight , taking each step like a wader in a mud river. Stopping every so often to catch his breath and rest his aching arms, the progress was slow and stilted as he avoided being knocked down by the crowds drifting by.

Everyone ignored the child carrying a crate of beer.

About to abandon the job, five dollars not being worth the effort, Eli spotted a bicycle slung against a lamppost outside a bookmakers. The back had a rack for carrying parcels that a crate of beer would fit onto perfectly. He examined the bike lock, lightweight, and smiled.

Taking a large stone from his pocket he hunkered down next to the chain covering his hands from view with his body he swung down, stone meeting plastic. After five minutes of hammering the lock popped and Eli strapped the crate to the back of the bike with the convenient bungee cords clipped to the rack. He hopped on the bike and rode away, cutting the length of his errand in half.

Gustavio laughed at the kid pulling up on the obviously stolen bicycle with the crate of beer secured to the back.

"That boys is what we call initiative! So kid you can boost bikes, ever try anything a little bigger?".

Eli shook his head but the resolute gleam in his eyes was enough to tell Gus that he'd be up for the challenge.

" Well we were gonna take Felix out for a little tutoring, you should come along" he smiled taking the crate of beer onto his shoulder and wrapping his other arm around Eli's shoulders guiding them both to the steps.

Eli watched as he opened the crate took out a beer and a plastic bag, he handed the bag to one of the older boys beside him, voice too low for Eli to catch. The boy tucked the bag under his shirt and headed towards his motorbike.

"Hey what is it my kid brother calls you?" he asked ruffling Eli's hair before handing him a beer.

Eli took the open bottle, taking a swig, schooling his face carefully.

"Weevil".

* * *

The year after he boosted the bike he found her on the floor, elastic still around her arm.

They put her beside her father, another stone in the flower strewn field.

His Abuela lit two candles and Weevil sat on the doorstep next door playing a game of chance.

"_**I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be."  
- Douglas Adams, The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul**_


	5. Dk

**D.K: A Boys Best Friend**

"_**We'll be Friends Forever, won't we, Pooh?' asked Piglet.  
Even longer,' Pooh answered."  
– A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh**_

Lightly balanced on his toes, Logan quietly made his way past his fathers office to the kitchen. Pulling up a stool from the island he climbed up, balancing precariously he retrieved a glass from the press. He furrowed his brow in concentration while pouring filtered water into the crystal glass, keen to avoid spilling a drop.

With as much care he resumed his tip toed stance and like a dancer moved across the polished marble with little noise.

The giggle, high pitched and airy almost made him stumble, a deep chuckle accompanied it, he was certain now that the noise had originated in his fathers office.

His frown deepened from one of concentration to distaste as he ran through a mental checklist of the houses occupants at that particular moment. His mother, still in bed, the gardener in the garden pruning roses, the housekeeper in the laundry room, his nanny, in his fathers office, with his father.

"Bitch" he whispered under his breath and resumed his climb up the carpeted staircase, glad not only for the warmth of the plush material under his bare feet but also for how it muffled his already light steps.

He pushed open the door to the master bedroom with one hand and squinted through the dark, to the shape curled up in a corner of the king sized bed. Traversing the clothes and bottle strewn floor he tried to blink back the tears the cloying perfume that hung in the air had elicited. He placed the glass on the solid oak night stand with a deliberate thump and crossed the barefoot minefield once again to throw back the damask curtains and reveal the view of the Santa Monica Mountains and the searing California sun.

The curled up shape shifted slightly and groaned, burrowing further into the silk bedclothes. Logan laughed and made his way back to the bed, momentarily pausing in his progress to swing from the large dark wood post at the end of it. A hand emerged from the covers and dragged him from the post and onto the wine coloured duvet.

He giggled as his mother pulled the covers over both their heads and began to tickle him while grumbling about being woken up much too early. Finally he managed to gasp out between breaths that he had to go to school. Lynn breathed a sigh, hugging her baby boy to her chest trying to ignore the pounding beginning to form in her left temple.

"Fine leave me here all alone, to the mercy of the glaring sun".

"What do you expect, we live in California?" he said sombrely, sounding older than his five years.

"You know rain would be nice, just this once" she laughed at the way he scrunched up his nose at the idea of rain.

"Without any rain, we don't get any rainbows" she reached for the crystal glass she knew would be on the night stand.

Leaving the covers back just enough so the sunlight could catch the multifaceted crystal, casting tiny rainbows across the glass. She held the cool surface to her head and smiled at the way her sons eyes followed the coloured light as it played against her face.

She brought the glass down and held it to his flushed cheeks watching the colours dance along his fair skin.

"We definitely need rainbows" she stated firmly, before taking a gulp of the clear water.

It was what he had been waiting for she knew, somehow it had become engrained in his mind that she was always in need of a glass of water. He was usually mollified by her drinking a mouthful and promising to finish the rest. Placing the glass down she clapped her hands.

"Now off to school with you, go on, get".

He smiled, kissed her check and bounced out of the room, thoroughly satisfied he had cured her hangover.

Lynn chuckled to herself, I definitely need a drink for that, but not water.

* * *

Warning: This paragraph depicts child abuse both physical and psychological. You may want to skip ahead to the next line break, or grab a cuddly teddybear.

* * *

Logan in his contentment had almost forgotten to sneak past the occupied office but luckily the noise emanating from inside drowned out his steps.

The laughing was replaced by grunts and gasps that made Logan's stomach drop as if he'd eaten a pancake made of lead.

He willed his feet to move, if he got caught listening...

But he wasn't listening, he'd just overheard, still he doubted that argument would hold much water with his dad.

Vaguely aware of what exactly was happening in the office but fuzzy on details he decided to just ignore it and finish getting ready for school. What would be the point of telling his mom, after all he didn't actually know what it was that was actually happening, just that it made him feel sick.

Finally gliding across the kitchens tiled floor he found a fresh pair of socks and newly cleaned shoes left by the housekeeper next to the small lunch she had packed him. Slipping on his socks and shoes he attempted to tie the red and grey stripped tie he had to wear with the stupid private school uniform.

His fingers fumbling in frustration he wondered just who was a big enough idiot to think five year olds needed to wear ties and blazers.

He gave up when he had created something more resembling a fisherman's knot than a Windsor.

Deciding to at least try and eat something so he could concentrate for some of the day, he once again dragged the stool from the island and pulled it up to the cupboards that lined the wall. Cereal he concluded would be the best option, an involuntary shudder ran up his spine when he thought about what had happened when he had tried to make toast.

The box of sugary frosted chocolate coated colourful puffs of sugary nothingness were located on the highest shelf, apparently Marcella, the housekeeper, did not approve of empty calories. Straining to reach he pulled the box bit by bit from its perch, ignoring the dangerous wobbling of the brushed aluminium stool.

His hand finally clasped the cardboard box just as the stools thin legs slide from under him.

Shit.

He wasn't sure whether he had said it or thought it or if he had heard it shouted from the office down the hall, but it was all he registered as his head cracked against the marble and pieces of colourful confetti like cereal spread across the floor.

The pain was immediate and strong, he felt it in his teeth which had clamped down on his tongue. Blood filled his mouth and he was pretty sure a pool of it was probably spreading out behind his head, soaking the cereal in some twisted parody of the breakfast he had been about to make.

He blinked, well that was a weird thought, his eyes drifted over a figure approaching him, though it was upside down, or he was... his head hurt.

"Mom" he choked out around the blood and spit, the figure didn't appear to hear him, but as if in answer his vision focused on Aaron Echolls, movie-star, action hero, Oscar winner, sexiest man alive 1987, and livid father.

Shirtless and buttoning his jeans Aaron's face was red, his hair dishevelled and his eyes full of murder.

"LOGAN!" he yelled grasping him by the collar and unceremoniously hoisting him up off the ground.

Logan kept his eyes trained on the floor and was relieved to see that there was not in fact a pool of blood staining the marble.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing at eight O' fucking clock in the morning, you little prick?" Logan could probably ask the shirtless man the same question but he really had no desire for a December funeral.

"Look at this mess, what do you think you were doing, destroying my house, whose going to clean this up?

"Marcella, the housekeeper" god damn it why did he have to say that out loud, he flinched before he even saw Aaron raise his hand.

The slap connected with enough force that Logan felt it in the back of his head which was already aching from hitting the marble.

He vaguely wondered how many IQ points that little double team had knocked off. Well he was already too smart for his age or so everyone told him.

Aaron suddenly went quite and lowered Logan to the ground, when the boys feet touched the ground he placed both hands on his shoulders in a fatherly gesture. Logan took a deep breath, he almost preferred the slapping.

"Son I know I'm a rich man and that you have grown up expecting a certain standard of living, but every penny I have I made with my own sweat and blood" Aaron paused in his speech, to emphasis his point but Logan's mouth took the opportunity to whisper "Yeah, your own _fake _sweat and blood".

Aaron's eyes narrowed but he continued, his voice at a slightly lower pitch.

"And I want you to appreciate that, I will not always be here to clean up your little messes" he crushed some of the cereal under the sole of his shoes with a pointed crunch.

He then took his hands from Logan's shoulders and walked towards the fridge, every step a loud crunch, he took a carton of milk from the fridge and walked back to where the half empty cereal box lay crumpled on the ground.

Logan stood completely still poised on the balls of his feet, eyes never leaving his father, like a rabbit watching a dog, waiting for the attack.

Aaron picked up the box and tipped it upside down letting whatever cereal was still left in the box fall to join its kind on the tiles.

Next he unscrewed the cap of the milk and poured the entire carton onto the cereal, Logan watched in wonder as the milk caught in the gaps between tiles and flowed away in rivers of white.

"You know it's a sin to waste food" Aaron said in an even voice "Now eat your breakfast, son".

* * *

He watched her try to wipe the damp stains from his knees in frustration, her hair was just brushed and her dress was neatly smoothed down but she still smelt like his cologne.

"Geese, Logan" she breathed "why do you always have to be so clumsy?" giving up her attempts she reached up to take the ice pack he had been holding against his head.

She was attractive he supposed, dark hair and dark eyes, copper coloured skin and a soft voice. He had really liked the mischievous sparkle in her eyes, and the breathy way she'd laughed, but right now he hated her more than anything in the world.

"Logan, honey are you listening to me?" she shook her loose curls and began to retie his mangled tie.

"Away with the fairies, as my granny used to say" she ran her hand down his chest smoothing out the tie.

Logan gritted his teeth and shoved his hand in his pocket to stop himself from slapping her.

"Yes Nanny Emma, I can hear you, and no Nanny Emma I'm still her with the _common_ people" he almost spat the word common at her.

He saw something flash in her eyes but whether it was hurt or anger he didn't bother to find out, he just turned on his heels and stomped off into the school.

It wasn't till he had sat down in the classroom that he realised he had left his lunch in the car, and that Nanny Emma hadn't bothered to bring it in to him.

Anger then he thought with satisfaction.

He untied the cursed tie and threw it in the bin, before running his fingers through his recently combed hair, leaving it messy and tousled.

Miss Linda bustled into class, dumping a bunch of print-outs onto her desk, sighing in frustration when half the pile slipped off the desk onto the floor, inciting the room of five year olds to giggle manically, Logan occupied himself with swinging on his chairs back legs and counting the tiles on the ceiling.

"Logan".

Thirty-four , thirty-five...

"Logan"

Seven, thirty-eight

"Logan Echolls, pay attention"

He swung the chair back onto its full assortment of legs with a deliberate thump, slowly allowing his head to loll forward before meeting his teachers eyes with a plastic grin. It didn't even falter when he finally registered the tight lipped face of the principal, Ms. Garland, no Miss Jennifer or God forbid Jenny, for this one. Logan could respect that, an unadulterated tyrant, not even trying to hide it.

"Logan, please follow me to my office" it was phrased like a request, it wasn't.

"Sheesh these people sure take their dress code seriously" he muttered as he slunk to the front of the class and followed the rigid backed women.

"Well, Logan, what age are you now?" she asked, her voice unsuited to the pleasant tone she was trying to communicate.

"Five, but I expect you have a file somewhere that says the same"

She nodded curtly "How do you find Miss. Linda's class?"

"Boring" He replied as curtly.

"What about the other children in the class, do you have any friends?"

He shrugged, the other children in the class were also boring and tended to avoid him because of his low tolerance for stupidity and his bad temper.

He nodded "And do you find the actual work easy?"

He nodded, again.

"So if I was to move you to a more advanced class would you have trouble adjusting or would you find it interesting"

He considered it for a moment, mentally trying to figure out what the word adjusting actually meant, he had a vague idea from the context. Adults tended to either speak to him like he was a baby or the smarter ones assumed from his demeanour and attitude that they could speak to him like an adult. He didn't like to admit that he was in fact five, he had a large vocabulary and a worldly air, but again he was still only five.

Another nod.

She sighed in exasperation "You can't answer and 'or' question with a yes or no, you have to pick one? Fine do you want to be moved?" she gave up.

Well it couldn't hurt, get him out of this place quicker, he nodded one last time.

"You talk too much when you should be quiet and your quiet when you should talk, do you just like being contrary?"

He simply smiled.

* * *

She walked him to his new classroom and introduced him to his new teacher, Miss Susan, a honey blonde beauty with doe eyes and the dress sense of an eighty year old with a penchant for floral prints and pastel colours.

She greeted him with a smile so sweet, he wanted to suck on a lemon to counteract the sugar overload.

"Well, welcome to class Logan, we'll all try and get along with our new friend won't we class?"

A half hearted chant of "Yes Miss Susan" wasn't encouraging.

He took his seat at the back of the class but spent the rest of the period before lunch bombarded by the perky woman, making sure he understood and was keeping up. It was irritating and made it harder to actually concentrate.

The relief provided by the ring of the lunch bell was eagerly accepted as he darted from the room to find somewhere quite to read his book. Which was well above even his new grades level.

Sitting under a Hawthorne tree at the edge of the grass he tuned out the yells and screams of the other kids and the grumbling of his own empty stomach.

He was trying to figure out what the word 'captivating' meant when his musings were interrupted by a shadow falling over the pages of his book and the soft wheezing of someone short of breath.

He looked up to see a boy who was pudgy but under the puppy fat actual had quite good looking features and brilliant blue eyes framed by a shock of dark brown hair. If he lost the weight, he'd be a real looker Logan thought absently, eyes trained to read faces by years surrounded by people obsessed with appearance.

He cleared his throat.

"I'm reading" he proclaimed dismissively holding up the book as evidence before resuming his former position head down, eyes intent on the page.

He heard a mumbled sentence and the awkward shuffling steps of someone trying to take up as little room as possible but managing to take up more than was necessary. Annoyed by the easy obedience and the submissive expression in the kids eyes, he raised his head.

"Hey, say that again but in English not mumblese" he yelled at the retreating back.

The boy stopped dead, jerkily turning to face him, fear evident in his expression and body language.

"I, um, I said that, eh, I was sorry for bothering you" he managed to just get out.

"Well, why did you bother me in the first place if you're so sorry about it?" he asked leaning his head back against the tree bark and looking at him through his lashes.

The boys face changed to a surprised expression that remind Logan of the letter O.

"Well you, um, I mean I sit next to you in class, now, your new class" he took a minute to gather his thoughts, twisting the bag he carried in his hands nervously.

" You ran out without lunch, so I thought you could, I mean if you want, I could give, well , I thought we could share".

He held out the bag as if it explained the jumbled sentence that had just fallen from his quivering lips.

"You mean you want to share your lunch with me? Why? Is it poisoned?"

The boy laughed "I hope not I've already eaten some".

At this Logan grinned, so the bundle of nerves can make a joke.

"Pull up a patch of grass" he gestured to the area surrounding him.

The boy smiled appreciatively, "Hi, I'm Duncan Kane" he held out his hand.

Logan looked at the proffered hand, amused by the idea of a five year old who shakes hands.

"Logan, nice to meet you Duncan", he gave a little bow from his seated position, flourishing his hands like a stage magician.

"Kane, Duncan Kane" the boy laughed, dropping his hand.

"What?"

"Well my mum says its rude not to give your full name when being introduced, I was just making sure you got it all"

" Well Duncan Kane, I'm Logan Echolls and your mom must really want people to know who you are, what's your dad , a politician or something?"

He shook his head " Computer stuff or something I don't really get it but there are a lot of people who get really excited about whatever new thing my dad is doing, and people keep giving him money"

"Sounds cool, at least your dad makes something cool"

"Doesn't your dad make movies, that's cool"

"Have you ever seen any of his movies?"

"No, my mum won't let me watch them, she thinks they're too violent"

Shaking his head "I don't know about violent, a lot of them are kinda stupid or just really cheesy, the stunts are cool though. I got to watch them jackknife a truck off the edge of a cliff once and then explode it, that was cool"

Duncan's eyes went wide at the image " Wow that is cool", he took out some sandwiches, handing one to Logan, "Hope you like eggplant, my mum has me on a diet"

Logan eyed the box of cookies sitting on the edge of the bag "It's not gonna work if you eat all them"

"My sister, Lilly, smuggled them into my bag this morning, she said I had to share them with a friend"

* * *

The two boys sat in silent companionship, enjoying the shade provided by the skyward reaching Hawthorne, munching on chocolate chip cookies, the eggplant poisoned sandwiches left for the ants.

The peace was momentary and as was so often the case in Logan's experience, broken by an act of aggression.

A noisy rabble of boys a year or two older than Logan and Duncan strutted their way through the playground towards the patch of grass that had become Logan's sanctuary for the last few months since school began.

Not that he was hiding from anyone but after two incidents where he got into fights with the older children he decided to just avoid the temptation to violence brought on by the stupidity of his peers.

Reginald Masters at the age of seven had decided to stake out his claim as alpha male by surrounding himself with boys smaller than himself like a shark and a school of Remora fish.

Logan had become public enemy number one on the gangs list when he had sent their second in command Scott Dixon home in tears only two weeks after school began. He hadn't even hit him or anything, just told the truth, and how was it his fault he had never heard that word before. Logan looked at the small sandy haired boy practically latched onto the broader boys large forearm, some people were so sensitive, it was just a simple four letter word and honestly his mother really was a horrible old...

"Em Logan?" Duncan interrupted his train of thought. By this time the shadow of the gaggle of boys had covered the formerly sunny patch of grass and Logan looked up into the smug grin of a boy bigger than everyone else and used to throwing that weight around.

"Hey Reggie, here to reassert your totalitarian regime?" silence descended on the entire group as a shared look of confusion passed between all in attendance.

"What does that mean?" Duncan whispered.

Logan shrugged "Not sure, something about bullies and power, read it in a book".

Reggie was not happy about being out-smarted and then ignored by the little twerp in front of him but he knew from experience that he didn't back down from threats and sometimes would even fight back. The pudgy boy beside him on the other hand had always been a good soft target for him and his boys.

Grinning he brought his perfectly polished Oxfords down onto the bag next to the fat kids knee, juice and cookie crumbs sprayed out of the bag onto the poor kids uniform, casing dark patches to sprinkle his charcoal grey slacks.

Duncan scrambled to his feet inexplicable apologising for being in the way. Logan could feel the irritation rising like a rash up the back of his neck.

"Don't apologise because someone else is a dick" he yelled leaping to his feet, grabbing at Duncan's sleeve leading him away to the bathroom.

"What did you call me?" Reggie roared stopping Logan in his tracks, logically he knew that he should just keep walking but he had already bitten his tongue today and wasn't in a rush to repeat the experience.

Well here goes. He spun on his heels, prowling over to the taller boy, eyes gleaming.

"I called you a dick, a doofus, a moron, an asshole, an idiot,an oaf. You are the reason why there is no need to look for the missing link, why 'Do Not Eat' is written on tubes of glue, why Dumb and Dumber is a documentary not a comedy! "

Logan took a minute to catch his breath and enjoy the sight of slow, rust worn gears turn in Reggie's head as he tried to process the barrage of insults he'd just been subjected to.

"And if you ever come near my friend again I'll make sure it will be the stupidest thing you've ever done, and there's a lot of competition for that spot."

Logan finished, flashing a smile reminiscent of a crocodile, all teeth.

He turned away, grinning triumphantly at the awe struck expression on his new friends face.

Reggie couldn't let it drop, he knew that he had been insulted and threatened, understanding the details wasn't important but reasserting his dominance was.

Never a man of words, he choose to do so with action, bellowing like a bull he charged at the smaller boy. Slighter than the aggressor and used to surprise attacks Logan shifted on the balls of his feet spinning around and out of the way.

Physics being what it is, the momentum carried the older boy face first into the rough bark of the Hawthorne tree. A collective wince went up into the air as the crunch of bone on bark echoed around the playground.

The supervisor ran over panic-stricken and it wasn't long till the whole thing dissolved into a circus of teachers, parents, medics and probably a few lawyers, it was a private school in LA after all.

* * *

Sitting outside the principals office, Logan was trying to control his laughter at how ridiculously the whole incident had escalated, Reggie hadn't even broken his nose, just got a little nose bleed.

The only thing that saved Logan from Ms. Garland's wrath was Duncan insisting that Reginald had run into the tree by accident and the other boys conspicuous memory loss. "

Why'd you do that?" Duncan's quiet voice broke through his stifled giggles.

"I didn't do anything, dude ran into that tree all by his lonesome" Logan replied.

"No, I mean, why did you stick up for me in the first place?" Duncan looked down shyly at his clasped hands.

"Well it was more of a win-win situation really, I got to tell off one of the biggest ass-holes in the school and you got him off your back, the bloody nose was just icing on the cake" Logan considered this for a moment before his face twisted in distaste.

"Bloody nose icing, gross" he giggled and this time Duncan joined in.

"Really though Duncan Kane , you are my friend and nobody messes with my friends" he grinned puffing out his chest.

"I am? But we just meet?"

"Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. "

"Duncan"

"I know Duncan, Duncan Kane, sheesh some people have no culture, hey can I call you D.K or something my jaws starting to hurt saying your full name all the time."

"Just Duncan's fine, I like D.K though it's a lot cooler than Donut"

"Donut? As in Duncan Donut, as in Dunkin Donut" Logan almost doubled over laughing.

"Who calls you that?" he gasped between chuckles.

Duncan looked sheepish "My sister Lilly"

"Smuggled cookies and silly nicknames, I have to meet this sister of yours" the two boys grinned at each other.

The office door swung open and a very red faced Ms. Garland shot a look of venom at the boys.

"Just go back to class already and be quiet about it, and you" she pointed towards Logan's uniform " straighten yourself up and for god's sake put on a tie!"

* * *

They gave him a spare tie, Miss Susan tying it for him. He watched her patiently fumble with the knot and then smooth it down, before he slowly and deliberately took the scissors from her desk and cut it right above the carefully constructed knot.

The young woman watched in shock as the red and grey striped material fell to the floor, a pool of darkly coloured silk. She genuinely looked as if she might cry when he pleasantly said "Thank You, Miss Susan" and bounced out the door to join the other children streaming from the school to their parents luxury cars.

"Why not just wear the tie, you almost made her cry" the pudgy boy fidgeted, uncomfortable with the situation, as Logan plopped down onto the front steps. He squirmed under the appraising look the younger boy gave him, like an editor considering an article.

Something about the way the boys eyes softened but his jaw hardened, well as much as his round face allowed, told Duncan what he was about to hear was the truth.

"It's a lie" he shrugged, Duncan shook his head, confused, "ties, shirts, blazers, combed hair, nice words, warm smiles, there all for show, hide the bad stuff behind a nice appearance".

He paused, eyes narrowing bitterness lacing his voice "I don't like liars".

Duncan didn't really get it but he didn't want to upset his new friend so he just nodded.

"Em, sh-should I take mine off too?" he tugged at his tie in indication.

He felt his cheeks heat up when Logan let out a genuine laugh and looked at him with sparkling eyes.

"Would you? What if you got in trouble too?".

The flush in his cheeks turned pallid and he began wringing his hands.

"Um, I don't want to get in trouble but, ah, I really don't want to be a liar" he looked earnestly at his friend.

Logan stood suddenly, Duncan flinched afraid he had made the temperamental boy angry. He shut his eyes waiting for a punch or kick or wedgie, they popped open in surprise when he felt arms wrap around his shoulders instead.

"Em, Logan?" he was really blushing now, the only other person who ever hugged him was his older sister, Lilly.

The younger boy pulled away, eyes shining with joy, beautiful smile lighting up his entire face.

"You are most definitely not a liar"he said fervently "You can wear a tie and comb you hair and be a good boy because you are, in fact, a good boy, so its not a lie" he seemed impressed with his own logic.

Duncan stared bashfully at his feet, he was glad that he wouldn't have to get in trouble to keep being Logan's friend but was even happier that he had made his first friend and this friend thought he was such a good person.

"See you tomorrow" Logan waved almost skipping away.

Duncan gave a shy wave "Bye!".

"_**Sometimes,' said Pooh, 'the smallest things take up the most room in your heart."  
- A.A Milne**_

* * *

**A.N: By the way Logan would neither be Pooh nor piglet, he is obviously Tigger. D.K can be Eeyore (although I love Eeyore much more than D.K).**

**A.N 2: I' m not sure whether I should change the rating to an M, the themes are very heavy but I think teenagers can handle it, I dunno what do you think?**


	6. A Parable of Plastic Stars

**A.N: So this is just a weird little piece written mostly for the joy of using symbolic imagery and creating a surreal atmosphere. Sorry if it's really weird and makes no sense but the words just kinda flow out onto the page without me having much control, you know till I actually try to write something any way decent and words escape me.**

**A.N: Mostly used the word 'parable' in place of allegory because of alliteration but it doesn't really have a moral or a lesson. I don't think, maybe if you squint. While upside down!**

* * *

**A Parable of Plastic Stars**

"_**Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings."  
- Anaїs Nin**_

The whiteness surrounds her completely dazzling her eyes. The shifting of silk alerts her to his presence beside her, above her. She searches his face, close, too close, like a blurred photograph. Recognition slow, two faces look down upon her.

One smooth, beautiful, a weeping mask from a Greek tragedy.

Eyes empty.

The other cruel, twisted, a jester mocking the decadent court.

Eyes screaming.

Poppies spring from his touches staining the whiteness with crimson. The vines wrap around her, binding her to this moment. Their drowsy heads bowed, mourning some secret loss.

Forgetfulness heavy in the air.

Hypnotised by their nodding she joins them, eyes closing on the dazzling light.

* * *

When she opens them it is dark, still entwined in the poppies, their colour fading, she feels his presence beside her. Murky water reflects light from above.

She lays her head back, looking up, the stars shine down, plastic as the deck chair beneath her. Squinting she makes out the strings that connect them, tying the universe together. Faces , carnival masks drifting in and out, leering in gleeful ugliness at today's sideshow.

She knows him though, covered in shadow as he is.

He leans forward, she feels the salt burn her skin. Over her collarbone he runs his tongue, cleaving the tip in half. She watches as the crystals gather in the tear. Teeth bared he bites down on the lemon between her lips. The bitterness flows from his bleeding tongue, pooling in her breast.

A name falls from her mouth, muffled by the tart fruit, not his. She reaches for the owner but he keeps drawing back, moving away, mask wailing but eyes empty.

"Why?"

"He doesn't need you anymore Ronnie"

"Why?" she shifts her vision to him.

"I do" an acerbic hiss, a declaration of hate.

She watches as the acid flows from his forked tongue, eating away at her soft flesh, exposing hard bone.

* * *

Slowly the turbid waters lap around the feet of the deck chair, drowning the sparkling fabricated world in the filthy run off of unseen storms. Rising around them, till alone they watch as discarded masks float by in search of their faceless owners, a sparkling gold dress, an amber ashtray, golden curls and belt buckles.

A set of glowing pearls swirl through the water, dancing over to his fingers half submerged. Grasping them in horrified fascination he watches as they crack, hatching thousands of white moths. Fluttering around their heads illuminating their faces with the pallid glow of colourlessness born of lack of light. They settle over him like a breast plate, slowly burrowing their way into his flesh, leaving a gaping hole. The small creatures whither and curl, searing away from the fire, burning in his chest.

The ashes drift away on the cold breeze, wisps of smoke.

Her eyes follow the flames devouring him, stoking themselves on each other, consuming to create. They falter as the breeze tugs at them, pulling them away from each other, to join the drifting ashes.

Tentatively she raises her hands to the hollow, covering it, keeping the wind out, warming her hands on the heat. He moves closer, letting the heat travel down her arms to her chest, evaporating the pool of bitterness, scorching the vines, leaving her own wound exposed. Moving her hands he lays his chest on hers, sealing one void with another.

Words echo as the breeze snaps the strings, sending the stars sinking.

I need you.

Alone they drift in the dark.

"_**It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves."**__**  
**__** -**__** William Shakespeare**_


	7. Contrasting Colours

A/N: Thank you for your reviews, you are all very kind. Also I will always spell colour with a u and use various other U.K spelling. I'm Irish, it's what makes sense to my limited grammatical powers. It may also mean my syntax is a little strange, the Irish accent is a funny and varied thing. Sometimes I'll just be wrong though, I'm also just really bad at spelling. So apologies to my American friends and those of you with a strong sense of righteous grammar.

Disclaimer: I own a pink unicorn with a mustache but alas not Veronica Mars or any related copyrighted material. That's Rob Thomas' baby.

* * *

**Contrasting Colours**

_**"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up."**_

_**- Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol 9: The Kindly Ones**_

The world shimmered before her as the heat rose in waves blurring the edges of the horizon.

An endless expanse of perfect blue reflected in the dark glass of the sunglasses obscuring her face. The burnt earth glowed brightly beneath the blue, a contrast of hues that both entranced and irritated the eyes. The air conditioning blew hard in her face desperately holding back the wall of heat that rolled in through the rolled down window. The leather seat was beginning to burn the back of her legs. She shifted away from the beautiful but barren landscape, training her eyes on the man beside her, leading her into the desert.

He casually threw a smile her way before glancing in the her head she saw the black duffel bag slumped on the back seat and caught his smile spreading on her own lips.

Freedom.

A new life.

* * *

She rinsed the desert from her skin using the small stream that erupted from the shower head in fits and starts. Leaving a trail of orange dust on the porcelain bottom of the bath tub and caught in the folds of the threadbare fabric of the towel. Skin still glistening she moved barefoot out to the living room. She padded over to the door to see him lifting the black bag out of the back seat.

"Hey queen of the desert, a little help here?"

"Did you just call me a drag queen?"

"Believe me I know exactly what's under that hood"

"O great now I'm a car!"

" No this here is my one and only" he grinned, lovingly patting the bright green barracuda beside him,"car. You are my one and only girl."

"Springsteen couldn't have put it better himself" the sarcasm was tempered by the turn of her lips and the glitter of her eyes.

* * *

The days heat that had steadily been rising in shining waves finally broke, escaping into the cloudless sky as the colour filter flipped.

The earth was shrouded in cool blues as the sky burned orange, chased to the horizon by a deep purple creeping in at the corners of the world.

Like a bruise spreading across tanned skin.

The cold pricked at her arms, goosebumps adding texture to her skin. Shivering she placed two glasses, chipped but clean on the coffee table. Sinking down beside him, he threw half of a stripped blanket over her knees, pulling her under his arm, seeking and giving heat. Leaning across his denim knees she poured out two glasses of Chilean wine. The deep velvet red settled in the high-ball glasses like water in a well, colour sinking to the bottom. The drone of an old radio filled the room, a soft, sweet melody interspersed with harsh static. Beside her he shifted, yawning as his head dropped to her shoulder. As his shallow breaths rattled through her body she began carefully peeling the label from the wine bottle.

The chirp of insects and the distant cry of a coyote began in earnest as the sky turned black, the stars so far as to appear like pin-pricks in a canvas cloth.

The label had a picture of a perfect sunset, waves lapping against a stony shore, once free from the green glass she ran her French tipped nails along the middle of the paper, creasing it.

Folding the crease in half she shoved the picture of paradise into the back pocket of her shorts. He snorted, disturbed by her movement, her back arched up from the tribal patterned couch, his head fell against the back cushion.

"Priscilla babe, come here", he muttered pulling her down by the waist so he could lay his head on her chest.

"Hey can we live by the sea?" she laid her cheek against his freshly washed hair, letting the scent fill her senses.

"Don't like the desert?" he half yawned, hands slowly following the curves of her body.

"Its too quite out here!" a yearning yowl answered as in protest, as insects chirped their criticism and the radio droned on, still low and sad and sweet.

Still broken by static.

"Don't worry babe this place is just a temporary stop on the road to bigger and better places" he raised his head, eyes bright with the light of ambition, she returned his gaze, lips met and then parted.

"Yeah well I don't think I could take another dead end." a whisper, a sigh, a prophecy.

"_**A wise girl kisses but doesn't love, listens but doesn't believe, and leaves before she is left."**_ _** - Marilyn Monroe**_


	8. On The Tide

**Disclaimer: I own a globe that lights up but I don't own Veronica Mars or any related copyrighted material. That's Rob Thomas' baby.**

* * *

**On The Tide **

_** "It's probably not just by chance that I'm alone. It would be very hard for a man to live with me, unless he's terribly strong. And if he's stronger than I, I'm the one who can't live with him. … I'm neither smart nor stupid, but I don't think I'm a run-of-the-mill person. I've been in business without being a businesswoman, I've loved without being a woman made only for love. The two men I've loved, I think, will remember me, on earth or in heaven, because men always remember a woman who caused them concern and uneasiness. I've done my best, in regard to people and to life, without precepts, but with a taste for justice." **_

_** - Coco Chanel **_

It was evening when her plane landed, a steady stream of rain pelted the crowded streets.

Though the sky was growing dark the city was just beginning to brighten up. The gaudy colours of the neon flashed across the dark glass of the taxi window as she stared out at the city.

Even at this hour it bustled with life, a bee hive, full of drones and workers, soldiers and queens. Her reflection, pale and small in the glass was washed out by the brightness and life of the world outside.

Here there were no memories or assumptions, no friends or enemies.

Here everything would be different and better.

Cliché, she knew, but this was her chance at a clean start.

No one would claim this city as the beacon of clean and wholesome but the dark, wet streets before her eyes looked more appealing now than the sun soaked paths of her past.

Here she was anonymous.

It would be okay, she would work hard, like she always did, and she would succeed, like she always did.

Well in everything but that one thing.

That one thing that everyone made such a big deal about, that they wrote poems and plays, movies and songs, big epic sagas about.

A sigh like the last of the summer breezes, just beginning to grow cold, left her lips.

She was tired of it, that weight, let them keep their stories and songs, she would lock them away and move on.

Maybe one day when her bones felt hollow and light she would seek the weight of a past so dark and deep, like a gaping chasm , like a boiling ocean, to hold her to the world. She would sit with her ghosts and fondly remember a girl made of gold, a boy with a shy smile and another with eyes like fire.

But today was a day for burying the past and walking away. She had thrown it away and fled the ocean before the tide could return it. Maybe she would fish it out some day, like an old piece of driftwood.

But not today, today was new and Veronica Mars was just another girl without a past trying to make it in the bright lights and the big city.

Alone.

* * *

The sun was just beginning to peek out from behind the waves, painting their crests in golden light.

The dim world beyond the gold tipped waves was still dull and washed out from the night. Soon the painted fingers of the sun would revive the world in its palette of yellows, oranges, reds and pinks.

Till then the bright yellow of the taxi idling by the curb outside the beach house was the only splash of colour among the hazy blue of the mid mourning fog.

Dressed in white, bag slung over his shoulder , Logan walked purposely towards the car. He cast a tall silhouette against the side of the house, a temporary imprint of his presence.

He didn't look back until the door of the car closed, he thought he saw a shadow by the front window, thought he saw the blind twitch. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of salt and a lingering fragrance of flowers. A smile flashed across his eyes, liquid and warm.

She would stand by the window and watch the car pull away and turn out onto the almost deserted street, till the after-image of its rear lights faded from her vision. Then she would put on her armour and proceed to fight her battles while he speed away, towards his own.

He would worry but so would she, each in their own way.

This was a fact as much as the fact that they were both fighters, backing down just wasn't either of their had sent them reeling away to opposite ends of a continent but it had also dragged them back together to the small town perched on the edge of the ocean.

No, even the vastness of the ocean wasn't enough to keep the secrets of the soul.

One thing Logan knew, eventually all things thought lost or discarded returned on the tide.

Always.

**_"I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self respect. And it's these things I'd believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn't all she should be. I love her and it is the beginning of everything."_**

**_ - F. Scott Fitzgerald._**


	9. Nereid

A/N : So when Aaron said that Lynn's favourite animal was a mermaid I think I actually flinched because man that's really sad if you know the original story of the little mermaid. The one where she hurls herself into the ocean in the end, to drown, because the man she loves doesn't love her and she can never return to her family. Yeah, I'm just going to go sit in the corner now, don't mind me.

Disclaimer: I own a reproduction of the Mona Lisa but I don't own Veronica Mars or any related copyrighted material. That's Rob Thomas' baby.

* * *

**Nereid **

"_**She laughed and danced with the thought of death in her heart."**_

- _**Hans Christian Andersen, The Little Mermaid**_

Her father had been a military man all his life, he had joined the navy when he was nineteen.

His hands were always rough and he smelt of cigarette smoke and oil but his voice was smooth when he sang a Frankie Valli song.

The family moved often but they were always close to the ocean, the tang of salt air and the gentle hush of the waves became her home. She spent her childhood playing in the cool clear waters, collecting shells from the pale sandy shores and searching tide pools for pearls in the hopes of finding a mermaids purse.

Her father was often gone but every time he left he would return with something new.

When she was six he gave her a charm bracelet with a small pewter mermaid attached.

Over the years other charms joined the shining nymph; a conch shell, a small boat, a starfish and a large gold anchor with diamonds embedded along its shaft. The last one was gaudy sure, but it was the first gift her most recent boyfriend had given her and so she added it to the chain.

Months later, on her honeymoon, she lost the mermaid charm, she thinks it must have slipped from its fetter while she was bathing in the turquoise waters off the coast of Tunisia.

She cried when she realised it was gone.

Her husband promised to buy her a new one, she never wore the bracelet again. Giving it instead to her new step-daughter, she's pretty sure it either ended up stuffed in a drawer or traded for a Gucci purse.

When he was eight her son gave her a necklace with a brass mermaid combing her hair hanging from a single pearl.

It was elegant and delicate but not really suitable for red carpets or gala events so mostly it sat in its dark velvet box on her dresser, beside a silver cigarette lighter.

Sometimes when his small body lay slumbering on her bed, short, sharp little breaths like a staggered beat filling the cold quiet of the mansion house, she would sit at her dresser and think of her father.

When she was a child she had often sat at her fathers feet and watched as he twirled the lighter in his hands, flicking it open to watch the flame sway in the ocean breeze. Lying on his stomach, her child's eyes would open and begin to follow the flame with the same intensity as her father's had, as if they could see Djinn and dreams dancing there.

Strange how they were all so attracted to flame and fire even as they were drenched in the ocean down to their marrow.

Sometimes she wonders where her charm ended up, lying on the bottom of the Mediterranean, could it have made it to the Indian ocean or the dark cold waters of the Atlantic.

Fancifully she likes to think of her charm swimming the worlds waters and eventually reaching the calm of the Pacific where dipping her toes in the surf she will find it floating around her feet.

Other times she thinks that after knowing the depths of the ocean it would be cruel to shackle it to herself once again, to weigh it down with that gaudy anchor.

Often she even considers letting the little brass mermaid join her sister in the open ocean, free to frolic.

She never does, reality sets in and it's just a lump of pewter lost long ago and a piece of brass locked in a box.

"_**But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more."**_

_**- Hans Christian Andersen, The Little Mermaid**_


	10. Coffee and Conversation

**A/N:** These are for BeWitchingRedhead36 who so kindly reviewed and offered this lovely T.S Eliot poem as inspiration. I only hope I have done it justice (probably not, but I try). Anyway I really hope you and everyone else likes them.

**A/N II:** If anyone has a quote, poem, song or just a general character that they would like me to include feel free to drop me a line, I might just take the bait. (By the way I do have a whole heap of quotes and ideas myself but I like being introduced to new things and given new perspectives.)

**A/N III:** Also I profusely apologies for how long these took, I really hope they're good enough.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Veronica Mars or any related copyrighted material. That's Rob Thomas' baby. **

* * *

**Coffee and Conversation**

_**"There will be time, there will be time  
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;  
There will be time to murder and create,  
And time for all the works and days of hands  
That lift and drop a question on your plate;  
Time for you and time for me,  
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,  
And for a hundred visions and revisions,  
Before the taking of a toast and tea."**_

_** - T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock."**_

The coffee was lukewarm and bitter.

The glare of the overhead lamps cast reflections onto the surface of the dark pool of liquid, creating pale patterns. She gazed at them, without sight, cup clutched in both hands, held between her knees, head bowed, back bent.

The wooden bench was hard and cold, it groaned every time someone put their weight down on it. She didn't raise her head when he sat, his own cup held in his steady hand. The other rubbed over his face in some attempt to wipe away the weariness or perhaps rearrange his features to show less of the sadness.

"Sweetheart?" her eyes briefly flickered up, caught his and then fell again "You're mom's on the way, she'll take you home okay?".

She nodded slowly, as if a sudden movement would break the dam. The shield on his cup proudly proclaimed its mission, 'To Protect'.

She turned away from the lie and looked out at the bustle of activity that occupied the station. Phones rang and fax machines beeped, the coffee machine seemed to be perpetually pumping black, bitter energy into cups of various sizes and colours. The peoples faces were blurry and the noise muffled to her, as if she were peering into a fish-tank.

The world had been submerged and she couldn't breath, or maybe that was all the water in her eyes. He squeezed her shoulder, as a drop fell into the coffee with a ridiculous plop sound.

Someone called out "Sheriff", somewhere in the fish bowl and he stood, the bench groaning for him.

"Get some rest, honey" he patted her head before walking away. Stopping at the door of his office he turned "We'll get them, Veronica, whoever it is, we'll get them". Then he was gone, blocked from sight by the office door.

Gone.

She was gone.

She took another sip of the coffee, cold and bitter.

* * *

She looked tired, black bruised skin beneath her eyes, darker for the pallor of her skin. The colour had started to fade from her hair and she hadn't bothered to dye it again. It left a dirty, bleached streak, like in those old cartoons where seeing a ghost would make your hair stand on end and turn white. If the girl before her was anything like herself then she was probably seeing ghosts most nights. Unlike her she didn't have strong arms to hide behind.

"One mocha for me and a chi tea for you" she smiled handing over the polystyrene cup.

" A tea tea for me, yippee" Mac flashed a brittle smile while half-heartedly waving an imaginary pom-pom.

"Hey I didn't name it, Dr. Seuss" she shot back, plopping into the wicker work chair. They sat in stiff silence for a few minutes, till Mac spoke "I was thinking of just going for some simple blonde highlights this time, what do you think?" she asked, twiddling her hair between her fingers.

"Blonde is good, I'm partial to it myself" she grinned, flipping her curls over her shoulder.

"And here I thought you had a thing for the tall, dark and snarky ones" Mac smirked back.

"Dark is about right" she sighed, thinking of her less than stellar record where romance was concerned.

Silence filled the space between them, like the outline of someone not there but present none the less.

"Mac, I... Sorry" she bite her lip, punishment for its looseness, to complain to this girl about love frustrated was cruel irony, black and bitter as cop shop coffee.

Mac held up her hand, stopping the conversation from drifting towards the jagged rocks of...that!

"So you're going to stay at home and leave me in a dorm with some strange new person?" she redirected the conversation to safer waters.

"As opposed to all the perfectly normal that I bring with me?" Veronica gestured to herself, somehow making even the movement seem sarcastic.

"But what if she's peppy and nice and sincere ?" Mac asked, mock worry filling her voice.

"The horror!" Veronica let her eyes widen in shock.

"I know I'm so used to jaded and mean and sarcastic how will I cope?" Mac teased.

"Hey I'm not mean" she pouted.

The conversation drifted on, aimless banter as their coffee and tea cooled.

Silly things, inconsequential, the conversation of two teenagers not haunted by a boy with dark hair and dark thoughts.

* * *

She placed the cup down on the table with a gentle clink next to the freshly baked treats, whose aroma wafted on the air, before gingerly sitting down next to him on the couch.

"Well, what is it this time? Breaking and entering? Impersonating a government agent? Espionage? Animal husbandry?" he asked, the smile on his face at odds with his exasperated tone.

"Wallace" she began solemnly "Wait animal what?"

"Lets not get side-tracked, this is the part where you say" he adopted a high breathy voice "O Wallace, you're so brave and strong and handsome that no one else could possibly do this very dangerous, very illegal thing that I need you to do?"

She looked down a small smile on her lips "Nope not this time, I hereby free you from all sidekick duties, I'm hanging up the utility belt, boy wonder."

"V you're serious, no more crime fighting ?" he asked, all amusement lost.

"Nope I'm just a regular citizen again" she replied firmly, as if convincing herself as much as him.

"Uh huh till one of the Scooby gang gets in trouble, and you know who my money's on" scepticism was drawn on his face like a familiar tattoo.

Her eyes flashed something like panic and heartbreak as she tried to suppress the myriad tragic scenarios that had haunted her dreams and forged her decisions during the depths of the night.

"No, no more , I can't do it anymore, everything is just such a mess and most of it is my fault".

"Come on V, you know that's not true, you couldn't have known..." he trailed off, unwilling or unable to provide empty justifications and hollow conciliations.

"Known what? That my father, The Sheriff, would destroy evidence to save my ass, that my boyfriend would get the beating of his life, well ex now, that my other ex, the crazy stupid over-protective one would paint a target on his own back for the Russian mob?" her voice grew more frantic as she listed the soap opera plot that was her life.

"None of which you had any control over" he pointed out, voice low and soothing.

"No I just tie them all up in my own drama and let them hang themselves with the rope" her voice grew quiet and defeated " and now you're leaving too!".

"I'm just going for the summer, I'll be back next term" he took her hand, trying to smile for the both of them.

"Well I won't!" she replied stubbornly, pulling her hands away to cross them over her chest.

"V ?" worry was now clearly evident in his tone.

" I'm telling you first because you won't be here when I leave" she softened, lowering her tarnished armour.

"Where are you going ?" he needed to know and hoped she would tell him the truth.

"I've put in for a transfer to Stanford"

"Okay well I think they allow intercity visitation nowadays, besides I'll see you come thanksgiving or Christmas right?" he reasoned, trying to walk the razor edge between supportive and concerned.

"I don't think I'm coming back, I can't" she looked away, eyes misting over.

"They have this newfangled thing called email and video chat, but if you're old school phones still work, heck I'll go pre-industrial and write you a letter. You won't get away from me that easy". He joked, pulling her into a hug, reassuring her with and without words that no matter what or where he was still going to be there for her, still a part of her life.

"That's why you're my favourite BFF" she smiled, letting her tears fall .

"Your only BFF" he teased , letting her cry.

They sat in silence as she composed herself, sipping on the steaming coffee, letting the liquid scorch his tongue, he tried to convince himself that this wouldn't be the last time that they sat like this, sharing coffee and conversation in person.

"You really need to do this, huh?" he asked as he was leaving, silhouetted in the door frame by the dancing light reflected from the pool below.

"Yes"

I'll miss you.

* * *

She'd been lost in thought, sitting on the wooden deck chair staring out at the expanse of the ocean before her when he stumbled into the matching chair beside her.

He'd placed a polystyrene cup on the arm of her chair without a word. She didn't bother to turn her head, eyes never leaving the cerulean waters as she brought the cup to her lips.

It was warm and welcome, words she would never associate with the blond man quietly sprawled out on the sun-bleached wooden frame next to her.

The moments passed away as she watched a bird dip between the cresting waves, barely skimming the surface of the water like a dancer gliding across a glass stage. She heard him shift his weight as if trying to find a better balance.

Her eyes scanned the horizon for passing ships and the sky for distant planes though she knew it was a pointless exercise, like a child peering over the side of a boat in hopes of seeing the silhouettes of sunken galleons, too many miles of water stretched out between them.

"He'll come back" the words came soft and familiar like a groove worn in a wooden floor by the repeated pacing of impatient feet.

"I know"

_**"I have measured out my life with coffee spoons"**_  
_**- T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." **_


	11. And We Drown

**A/N: **This is the one I personally like the most, for what it's worth.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Veronica Mars or any related copyrighted material. That's Rob Thomas' baby. **

* * *

**And We Drown**

_**"We have lingered in the chambers of the sea  
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown  
Till human voices wake us, and we drown."**_

_** -T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock."**_

_"Carrie, Carrie look, look" small hands clasped at the star shaped creature as it lazily explored the new soft surface it now found itself occupying._

_"A starfish, wow" the dark haired girl answered scrambling over the slippery seaweed-strewn rocks to get a closer look._

_"What should I name it?" the blonde girl asked, eyes intent on the small life within her hands._

_"Name it? Susan you can't keep it, you have to let it go!" she said pointing at the water crashing against the rocks, filling the air with a haze of foam and salt._

_Susan,_

_You can't keep it,_

_you have to let it go._

_You have to let her go,_

_Carrie._

Tonight the dream woke her with the gentle touch of tears cooling on her cheeks, the taste of salt still in her mouth. At least there was no screaming, at least she hadn't dreamt of that terrible splash or the even worse way the dark waters had rushed to fill the gap leaving no trace of their sin but their own reflections.

The heat in the room was stifling her even as a breeze gently blew the gossamer curtains across the open French windows.

Her skin felt like fire.

Every inch enough to burn a hundred pyres, enough to set light to all the torches that lead the way to the truth.

She caught a glimpse of the black expanse below her window that substituted for the sea in the dark. She needed something, anything to make the awful itch stop.

The sheets of her bed where damp and tangled, wrapped around him like a shroud and the urge to wake him just to dispel the terrible doubts gripped her. But the gentle rise and fall of his chest should have been enough. She needed something but when he was here she hated the idea of leaving to get it, and the look in his eyes when she returned filled with it.

The water would help, in some way it always did. It reminded her of why, of how, of who, while simultaneously washing it all away.

She padded softly into the bathroom, letting the water run into the bath. Perched on its curved edge, fingers splayed beneath the rush falling from the silver tap, she swayed slightly while humming. Not one of her own songs. When the water reached the lip of the porcelain, she lowered her body into the inviting depths, skin shivering as the icy fingers enveloped her. The water displaced by her body flowed over the edge in a cascade, creating pools on the tiled floor. Lying back she closed her eyes and listened to the sound of it trickling down the sides of the bath.

"What are you doing?" he asked settling himself on the edge of the bath, running the tips of his fingers through the cool clear water.

"Couldn't sleep, too hot" she replied sleepily letting her body sink further into the cold bath.

"That you are" he let a lazy grin slide over his face as his eyes slide over the blurred outline of her submerged body. The mischievous sparkle in his brown eyes hid the concern well, for that she was thankful. Reassurance, comfort, weren't what she wanted, she just wanted to be swallowed up by the water, to block out everything for a while.

She wanted to drown if not in the deep waters then in him.

She smiled and flicked him with the droplets that had collected on her fingers.

"Why are you up?" she asked watching him laugh as he used the edge of his sleeve to wipe the spray from his face.

He looked at her and just shrugged, neither of them slept well and she enjoyed there peaceful moments alone, with each other, without the world.

"Care to join me?" she purred, arching her eyebrow as she raised her leg from the water, letting the drops fall from her still burning skin like rain from a hot tin roof.

His hand brushed against her wet skin, pulling her foot closer to him, he placed a delicate kiss on her ankle, where a small tattoo of a starfish kept her memories close.

"Maybe next time" he mumbled into her skin before rising from the edge of the bath, bending to her lips and leaving her with a sweet kiss. Her leg sunk back down as she let her head drift below the water.

Suddenly her skin felt cold, but her ankle burned like it had been branded and her lips tasted of sugar.

_You have to let her go,_

_Carrie,_

_You have to let him go._

_**"Let us go then, you and I,**__**  
**__**When the evening is spread out against the sky"**_

_** -T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." **_


	12. Keep Looking Up

******A/N:** This is the one I'm really unsure about but I took so long just working up the courage to actually post these that I thought it better to just do it and include them all. I really hope I haven't ruined the quotes for you. (Hmm I think my insecurities are showing, sorry 'bout that.)

******Disclaimer: I do not own Veronica Mars or any related copyrighted material. That's Rob Thomas' baby. **

* * *

**Keep Looking Up**

"_**Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,**_

_**The muttering retreats**_

_**Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels**_

_**And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:**_

_**Streets that follow like a tedious argument**_

_**Of insidious intent"**_

_** -T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock."**_

The Camelot, neon fortress guarding the secrets of the love-lorn, lust-driven knights of Neptune.

Each closed door and drawn curtain a sordid secret banished to the realms of hourly rates and threadbare linen, clean if you're lucky.

Here upon the metal stair meets Guinevere and Lancelot while Arthur is busy playing golf or getting a Thai massage.

Here the ladies of the court congregate at the corner waiting for a suitor with a fat purse.

And across from the castle a lone crusader, an avenging angel sits collecting sins to paint a fresco of humanities weakness as borne out by history repeating itself.

* * *

Veronica adjusted the lens on her camera before focusing it on the third window to the right from the ice machine. The view was blocked by the off white blinds that had been dragged down across the pane of glass. Shadows still made it explicitly clear what extra curricular activities were occurring inside.

The silhouetted form of a women stood out starkly from behind the opaque screen, her arms raised to unhook a button at the back of her neck before the dress slide from her slender frame. A shadow box show with a decidedly more adult theme.

Sighing Veronica placed the camera on the seat beside her and picked up her textbook, this might take a while and she had mid-terms to study for. Ignoring the strange dichotomy of seedy motel and conscientious student she began to recite algebraic equations.

The hour crept by, the changing songs on the radio and the occasional tramp of feet up and down the stairs of the motel the only indication of the passing time. The click of a door had her reaching for her silent companion in the next seat. Raising the camera she watched as the door opened next to her target and a middle aged man made his way to an old ford before driving away. When the car had pulled out a small woman, dressed in a gold sequenced dress that hung from her shoulders and rode up her thigh, left the room. She was stuffing a couple of bills into her small gold purse.

Veronica watched as she clopped over to the vending machine in her plastic gold platforms whose sparkling straps snaked up her calf. After getting her drink the woman walked back across the black asphalt of the parking lot with more grace than should be allowed with those gaudy weights tied to her feet. She stopped when she reached the street corner where similarly dressed, or undressed depending on your definition, women stood waiting for a proposition.

Veronica let her eyes fall to her book to avoid watching the transactions of the corner flesh market, wishing the cheating couple would hurry up so she could just get her money-shot and go home.

Maybe take a shower.

It took a moment for the commotion behind her to catch her attention. The shrill shrieks and abrasive curses of the women drifted on the night breeze through the rolled down window of the LeBaron. She swivelled in her seat leaning out the window to see a man decked out in a velour tracksuit, hood pulled up over his head despite the heat. He ran, shining gold purse clutched in one scabbed hand, head turned back to shout an obscenity at his victim. Veronica saw the girl in the gold dress pulling the platforms from her feet while yelling.

Instinct kicked in and before she could question how good of an idea it was she had flung her car door open and out in front of the purse snatchers path. He turned his head just in time to see the obstacle but not quickly enough to dodge it. With a satisfying thump he flew into the metal barrier crumpling at the waist as he fell onto the street, wheezing and clutching his mid section.

Veronica swung her legs from the car and brought her taser up to his face, a wicked smile distorting her face. The small women, barefooted, made her way across, heels held in one hand. She snatched the purse from next to his head before carefully pulling on her heels, tying the straps and calmly bringing the platform down on the man's stomach with force, probably catching a finger or two where he was already holding it.

She raised her head smiling brightly at Veronica "Thank You, fierce girl" she said in stilted, heavily accented English.

"Just being a good citizen" she mock saluted, there was no point calling the sheriffs department, more than likely they'd arrest her and the lady of lose virtue and let the purse thief go.

The woman's corkscrew curls grazed the caramel tinted skin of her shoulders as she shook her head in confusion.

"Strange child" she muttered "always sitting in dark streets taking pictures of people".

"It's my job, I'm a P.I" she said defensively, put out by the fact she spent so much time around the Camelot that the 'locals' recognised her.

"P.I?" she pursed her metallic lips.

"Private investigator, like a detective but not with the police" she clarified, better not to be associated with the sheriffs department on these streets.

"Like Mr. Marlowe? Good, you seem nice girl, better not be police, makes you mean" she smiled.

Veronica nodded, she wasn't partial to the law round these parts herself and had to agree with her assessment.

"Well, you leave me out of photos, we will get along like burning houses, Missy Marlowe" with that she turned on her heel and clopped back to her corner.

Veronica unsure of what to make of her new 'friend' turned back to the prone man.

"I'd run, now, somewhere far away" she hissed letting the electricity arc over her taser, panicked and in pain the man scrambled to his feet before running away.

"And stop stealing purses, you punk!" she called after his retreating form.

It took another ten minutes but she got her money shot of the C.E.O kissing his assistant at the motel room door,before they drove away in separate cars.

Afterwards Veronica went home.

* * *

The girl with the gold platforms would wave at her whenever they happened to be working the same corner, sometimes she would even stop for a chat, giving away valuable pieces of information about the comings and goings of the motels patrons for a can of coke or a pack of cigarettes.

Once she even gave Veronica a can of some foul tasting energy drink when she had drifted off on a particularly long stake-out.

She never told Veronica her name and Veronica never asked, nor did she share much of her own personal details.

A month after the last time she had seen her, climbing into a well maintained Toyota, black miniskirt leaving little to the imagination and the same gold platforms wrapped around her small feet, she noticed her absence.

She asked one of the pretty boys dressed in denim cut-offs about her. She had seen them splitting a cigarette on more than one occasion. He just shrugged and said she was gone, probably found a better corner.

Veronica let it go, the faces where always changing on the badly lit corners of the side of town with less street lamps.

It wasn't till years later, when Veronica herself was a grown women, that she thought of the small woman and her gold platforms again. Chasing a bail jumper she had driven all the way to Sacramento, the night crawling over the city and her body demanding sleep she had pulled into a cheap motel by the highway.

She laid back on the sheets, nose filled with the overpowering scent of cheap detergent and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke and sweat. She let her head drop back onto the thin pillow and let her eyes drift to the ceiling.

"I don't know, one of the older girls said to keep eyes on ceiling, let the mind go, it's not so bad when you do that. I just keep looking up".

* * *

How many had stared at that ceiling as if it where the Sistine chapel?

Every crack counted and catalogued by wandering eyes.

Every stain transformed to the face of some patient saint imploring repentance or some wretched sinner beseeching forgiveness.

The entire history of man kind according to the 'Good Book' unfurled before the upturned eyes of men and women coming to know each other, biblically, before leaving as strangers.

How many more had strained against their neon cages, like statues half carved, trapped in marble desperate to escape but trapped, limbless, voiceless, potential unseen by every one but the sculptor. The sculptor who finds one crack or errant vein in the marble and abandons his works to their stone cells.

How many painted ladies and sculpted boys disappeared under layer after layer of grime, dirt and smoke, till darkened the stories they have to tell are forgotten? The bright colours and vibrant expressions lost.

_**"In the room the women come and go  
Talking of Michelangelo."**_

_** -T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock."**_

* * *

_Postscript: Well, I hope you enjoyed my ramblings, stay tuned for more folks (maybe even within a reasonable time-frame... ha, yeah right.) Seriously though if you made it this far, thank you for indulging me. _


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